Survival of the Fittest
by Blueninjamanga22
Summary: Society has fallen, my home is a pile of ashes. My dad has been taken away from me, and I will do everything and anything to get him back. And maybe, just maybe, save the rest of the world in the process. NaLu, JerZa, GruVia, and other pairings. Rated T for languages and my paranoia.
1. the World: Spinning Slowly

_**So I came up with this randomly, and of course, I decided to write a new story. The characters might be out of character, but I tried. I don't know if any O.C.s are going to show up, so don't hold your breath for any LaYa or for Inuria or K**__**ō**__**ri to show up. But the future's open for anything, I guess. **_

_**Anyway, I don't own Fairy Tail! **_

_**~ * ~ * Day 1 ~ * ~ ***_

_**~ * ~ * the World: Spinning Slowly ~ * ~ * ~**_

They say that before you die, your life flashes before your eyes. Therefore, I've come to believe that before unnatural chaos falls before us all, we will experience what could be one of the most memorable days of our lives. Then if you survive such chaos, you'll have that one day to remember. One thing to remember your old life by as you venture into the world.

And this was my day. My one memory as the world I knew fell to ashes. And I had no idea what was going to happen.

I'd always been one to believe that there is always an easy way to getting out. Out of violence, money, public speaking, anything. Is there really a point of doing something hard if you're smart enough to get out of it, anyway? I found no point in doing anything I didn't want to do.

"I'm going to get a soda," I told my father, taking a quarter out of my pocket. I put it in one, and then jerked it away with a string I so cleverly tied around my finger. I repeated this process four times, until I was able to select and accept my free Coke Zero. Yes, it was a beaten and tired old trick, but at least it worked well. And people hardly thought to use it anymore, because it was "unfair".

"Lucy," My father scolded me, his eyes full of disproval. But I was already used to this look, and I already knew what he was going to say, and what he wasn't going to do. "That's dishonest"

"They should've just made a better machine," I rolled my eyes, but there was a satisfied smirk that came onto my face, just like it always did whenever I did something like this. "Honestly, dad, Survival of the Fittest"

"You could've paid the dollar," My dad said. "'Survival of the Fittest', as you say".

"Yeah, but this way I get the better of it." I retorted with a smile. "I get the soda _and_ I don't have to pay the money!"

"I swear; you're just like your mother" My dad says with a shake of his head.

Then there's that awkward, pregnant silence that always comes up whenever someone―anyone― mentions my mother. Ever since my parent's divorce, it was as if my mother never even existed. The worst part was I could remember every bit of it, it only happened a year ago. One minute, everyone's happy. The next, my mother's gone.

But it's not like I'm whining about it. Maybe my mom doesn't care about me, so what? My dad loves me enough for the both of them. I have him, he has me, and we have each other. There was no need for anything or anyone else.

"Why can't mom visit us anymore?" I asked, opening up my soda and taking a sip.

"Lucy . . . it's complicated" My dad sighed, resting an arm around my shoulders, like he always does when he has to talk about something sad.

"Is it because you hate each other?" I asked, already expecting my answer to be right.

"No, no!" My dad exclaimed. "One day you'll understand, Lucy, one day"

"When's 'one day'?" I muttered under my breath.

We'd then seen what I would soon know as my last movie, and laughed over things that I've forgotten, no trace of our previous conversation left in our voices. You can't be quiet around someone you truly love was another discovery of mine, as a fight between my father and I never lasted more than a day. Any awkward conversation became dead after seconds.

As soon as I got home, I took my shower, eaten my bag of chips, and proceeded to the T.V. room for a little bit of relaxation. But my father was already watching the T.V., his eyes wide and horrified. I stood at the doorway for a few seconds, watching my father's face, wondering if something was horribly wrong or if he was just watching a horror movie.

He flicked off the T.V., and then picked up the phone. He dialed a number quickly, and then set the phone down only seconds after. The line must've been down. Before I could say a thing on the matter, however, the lights flicked off. I shivered in the sudden December cold; all of the power was out. This wasn't exactly an everyday happening, but my dad looked a little too terrified for the case.

"Dad?" I asked, hugging my shoulders. "What's going o―?"

"Get to the basement! Hide!" He commanded, throwing a blanket at me and pushing me to the back of my house. I wrapped it around my shoulders, as he practically threw me into the basement. Before I could even turn around, I saw the door close and hear the click of a key in a lock.

"Dad!" I yelled. "Let me out! What's going on?!"

I didn't hear an answer, only the sound of footsteps.

There was only one window in the basement, one form of light. A sliver of moonlight, shinning down in a circle in the center of the room. And in a split second, there was an explosion of light. The sound of a helicopter's propellers, of boots hitting the grass I worked so hard to mow once month, every first Sunday. Pulling it up with their feet and ruining all my flowers. It may seem stupid to obsess and worry about something as small as a front yard, but it was the only precious thing to me my eyes could see. A memory that was mine and no one else's, it was a front lawn to everyone else, but it was something my dad and I slaved to keep perfect. Yet, they didn't care if it was _my lawn_ or even _just a lawn_. They destroyed it as if it meant nothing at all.

I heard gunshot, and tears dotted my eyes as I wondered if my dad had been shot. I heard the basement door burst open, and I darted behind the water heater, the only hiding space I could see within eyeshot. I silenced a scream or any other noise of terror as I heard footsteps, as I tried to silence my breathing.

"Anyone down here?" A voice called from upstairs.

"I don't see nothin'" One of them said, his accent was one I'd never heard before. "Not even my hand in front of my face. It's too cold down here, Sir, I doubt anyone's down here."

He was right. It was cold upstairs, and it was freezing down here. I could see my breath in front of my face, any sweat that came from my nervousness nearly froze against my skin. I silently, very silently, drew my blanket tighter around me.

"Right," The 'Sir' in question responded. "Time to blow this place sky high"

* * *

Rubble. It covered everywhere except one place: the basement. The only place that survived the blow was the basement. The reason why my father shoved me in there seemed crystal clear as I dug my way out, standing on the mound that used to be my house.

And there was nothing.

There was only rubble, that horrible gray and red, everywhere. Every house that the eye could see was obliterated; my entire world had fallen to ashes. The sounds of laughter were gone, the birds singing, everything I once knew was missing. I covered my mouth and nose with my blanket and coughed, then got another look at it. My baby blanket, one that was once a fluffy pink, was now a deep, dark gray and no longer fluffy. It looked more like a dishrag than anything. Even my poor blanket was ruined.

"Hello?" I called, and then went into a fit of coughs. The air was so full of ash it was impossible to talk, let alone breathe. I looked to the rubble, running over to what used to be the town park. The fountain, one that held so many coins, memories, and wishes was nothing but a pile of stones. A lone flag, one that was bright red with a symbol that looked like a compass with too many points on it. Just below the symbol were a couple of characters I couldn't understand.

新世界

_What the hell? _I thought, gripping my blanket closer to me. I glanced around, biting my lip. He was gone. My father, my protector, my friend. He was taken away, or maybe even dead. I had no idea where he was or what I was supposed to do about it. My bottom lip quivered, and I couldn't stay strong. I _wasn't_ strong, not to keep from crying, and not to save my dad. Tears leaked from the corners of my eyes, and in seconds, I was sobbing like a baby. Tears poured down my cheeks, as I tore at the grass and my back heaved with sobs. I didn't know what I was supposed to do; all I knew was that I didn't do what I supposed to. And I hated myself for it.

I wiped the tears from my eyes; I swallowed any other sobs that came to me. I looked around, trying to find any sort of life. But even the plants were gone, died from the explosion or the rubble. Everyone was like my father: taken or dead.

I brushed myself off, and then gritted my teeth. This was nothing but bullshit. I couldn't be sitting here crying, not when there was the possibly chance my father could be alive. I was going to find him, even if I had to run to the other side of the Earth to do so.

But that was then.

This is now.

My day of memory was gone, as the unnatural chaos came upon me like a hurricane.

This was my life from here on out, as I ventured into the world, into the chaos.

This was the day the world I knew stopped spinning.

* * *

_**Ok, I know Lucy's incredibly O.O.C. But hopefully, she'll turn back into the good 'ol Lucy we know. **_

_**I think I'm the first one to do this, because I've never read anything like this before. But once again, I haven't read anything, so I won't take credit for anything. This is just me trying to be creative. *smiles* I hope this didn't come out as stupid as I think it is . . . sorry!**_

_**Like it, Love it, hate it? I'd appreciate it if you reviewed!**_

_**Aye, Sir!, **_

ブルー忍者マンガ22


	2. the World: Renewed

_**Thanks for all the reviews! Let me just say, I continue stories if they get at least four reviews (and if I can think of any way to continue it. Don't pull out the "But you didn't continue 'Eyes Open' or 'the Only Exception' or 'Sweet Torture'!" shit against me). You'd know that if you read my profile, but no biggie. Anyways, I got twice that many reviews for just one chapter of this story. You guys are amazing! And yes, this is an AU story, if you haven't already figured that out. **_

_**I don't own Fairy Tail, but I do own the scenario. Like I said, I don't know if anyone else has done this, but I think I'm the only one. **_

_**~ * ~ * Day 2 ~ * ~ * **_

_**~ * ~ * the World: Renewed ~ * ~ * **_

I dug through the remains of my fallen home, trying to find something―anything―that had survived the bomb. Unfortunately, little things fit that bill. And half of the stuff that had actually survived was burn, charred, and falling apart. And all of the stuff that I did find had something in common: their color.

Any surviving clothing was turned an ashen gray, and very little could be found. I didn't want to roam around in my P.J.s, so I couldn't be picky about fashion, which was extremely hard for me. I searched over the area that I thought was my room, and dug out my old school bag. It used to be bright pink and covered in doodles, dad and I had devoted a Friday evening to coloring it in. Now, however, you couldn't even tell that it ever had anything on it. The exterior was a dark gray, its contents ashes, burnt and charred to a point of no returned. I loved that backpack.

Digging under what felt to be another ten feet of rubble, I found what could've been my clothing. I spent a few minutes shaking the dirt out of them, and found that I was right. My old clothes, all consisting of bright and pretty colors, were now a matching dark gray. Even my poor washed-out jeans were a horrible gray color. But like I said, I couldn't be picky.

After I'd dug up anything I found (including a rather memorable picture of me and my father at a baseball game last year) I proceeded to change into my new clothing. It was all nothing but gray, that awful gray, the same color of all the rubble around me. I picked up a shard of glass and studied my appearance.

I grimaced. I looked like a _boy_. My hair was tucked back into my hoodie, which were a few sizes too big for me. That was understandable; it was my father's sweatshirt. But since I found it in all the rubble, I felt a close attachment to it. And since I found it in all that destruction, I knew that I'd feel awful if I just left it behind.

Not to mention that all of my clothing was either dark gray or black. I'd found some mittens, and I knew they used to be hot pink. But now they were the color of blackberries, and they left dust on my hands when I wore them. I knew I couldn't be picky, but I was used to slaving hour after hour over my appearance every morning, planning out my clothing and make-up carefully, and now here I was. Looking like a freaking _boy_, of all things.

I glanced back, squinting as I saw a patch of color in all the gray. I reached forward, grabbing the object in question. It was a Yankees cap, bright pink, and a souvenir from that baseball game I saw with my dad. It hadn't entirely survived the gray; the only part that remained pink was the hat part. The part made to shade your face from the sun had turned a dark gray. It wasn't the best, but it was something.

I grabbed the cap and placed it, rather dramatically, on my head. It wasn't perfect, as it was a little small from both the bomb and the time since I last wore it. But it was pink. Pink's a girl color, right? It wasn't exactly perfect, but it was the closest thing to feminism I could find in this mess.

I sighed, slinging my backpack over my shoulders, and walking out of my hometown and into the unknown.

* * *

In the last four or five years, I've never left Magnolia. It was small town in North Carolina, so it experienced all types of climates. I built snowmen in the winter, and went swimming in the summer. I'd often complained to my father that we'd never traveled enough. It was true, but I realize now that we hadn't left Magnolia because there wasn't anything standing around us.

I find out in a number of minutes that somehow, the north of my home had escaped the cold. There wasn't any snow on the ground, contrary to how it had been in Magnolia. And the air was black, hung in the sky like a blanket of black snow. The air was as black as charcoal, and warm against my skin. It makes me choke.

_It's not the air_ I realize quickly. _It's smoke. _

There was nothing anywhere, just smoke. So much smoke it fills my lungs and brings tears to my eyes. I lift up the color of my oversized sweater and cover my mouth, though my eyes are pouring with tears, even though I'm not sad enough to cry. Though I am sad, in fact, I'm miserable. But it was no longer enough to bring tears to my eyes. After my breakdown, I wasn't sure I had tears left to spare.

After walking for another fifteen minutes, I can see a small silhouette of something in the horizon. I squint through my emotionless tears, and realize what I'm looking at. I run, I run even though my legs hurt from all the walking. A building, and even though it could be empty, I know that it would make good shelter.

_Alberona Tavern. _

An old and fading sign hangs over the building, a few letters hang off and even more were missing. It was a rickety old tavern with dusty walls, and in a Wild West fashion, even with doors that swing open. By the noise coming from it, I know that it's occupied.

I swing the doors open, and all of the noise stops. Every face in the tavern is looking at me, silently judging me, I can tell. I was a high school student; I know the face of judgment. And this is it.

I walk up to the bar, letting my tennis shoes scratch against the floor. I don't mean to make noise, but I'm not going to strain myself to stop it. Not when there is no purpose. I also know that they are only waiting to see what I am going to do, and then they will return to doing whatever they do best.

The woman behind the counter looks to be only a little older than me, and very pretty. She has long, chocolate brown hair and brown eyes that seem to be both kind and sarcastic at the same time. She rests her hands on the counter, and over looks me in the same way everyone else was: judgmental. But if she is the barmaid, that makes a bit more sense. She is interested because she wants to know if I'm a paying customer.

"What do you want, Sweetheart?" she asks.

"Soda?" I say, my voice in a question-like tone. "Diet, please"

The woman gives me an odd look, then fills up a glass of soda halfway, and hands me the cup. "Half the calories," she smirks.

"Yeah, thanks" I roll my eyes, preparing to take a sip. However, the barmaid grabs the glass before I can do so.

"Hold on, Sweetie," She says. "You're gonna need to pay for that"

I reach down, pulling my credit card out of my sock. I got a job two years ago, when I was fifteen. In a small town where everyone knows each other, it's easy to pull strings for your friends and your friend's kids. I never really believed in wallets, so I just walk around with my money and my card in my socks. It's a good thing I do, if I hadn't all my money would be gone.

"Do you take cards?" I ask, and once again, all the chatter stops. But now, everyone is staring at me as if they can't believe their ears. It all makes me uncomfortable. The barmaid, however, takes the credit card in her hands as if it was something delicate.

"I'll see if my machine still works," She smiles.

"Why wouldn't you have a cash register?" I ask. "Well, I mean, a credit machine"

The girl stares at me, and then asks "Where do you come from, dear?"

"Up that way," I answer, pointing out the window. "Magnolia"

"_North_ Carolina?" someone in the back asks, voice full of surprise. I look and see an aging man with dark purple hair, stubble around his chin, and dark eyes. I don't know why he sounds so shocked, but I nod in response. This sends a ripple of shock throughout the tavern.

"I thought that was all Xīn territory," the man next to him whispers in shock.

"Enough whispering!" the woman behind the bar snaps. She pours out a cup of alcohol for herself, the turns her attention to me. "Sorry, honey. I don't have a machine, but your drinks on the house. Let me get you a full cup"

"Thank you" I say, taking a sip out of my newly refilled up. "Where am I?"

"You're in Charleston, South Carolina," the barmaid answers. "I'm Cana Alberona, I own this place. Those gossipers back there are Macao and Wakaba"

"I'm Lucy Heartfilia," I say, giving a small smile.

"What happened in Magnolia, then, Lucy?" one of the men, Wakaba, asks. "Why're you here when you could be in a Safe Zone like Magnolia?"

"Safe Zone?" I ask; my voice a little over a whisper.

"Wakaba, she just walked here all the way from the North, don't bombard her with questions!" Cana snaps.

"It's fine," I say, taking a gulp of soda, then whipping my mouth with a napkin. "We got bombed. My dad pushed me in the basement before it could happen. I think I'm the only survivor"

"Sorry, sweetheart," Macao says, giving me a pat on the back. Are people here prone to complimentary nicknames? "But it was bound to happen. Everywhere else in the North is a pile of ashes"

"But _why_?" I ask, my tone a bit more demanding then I intend it to be. All three people step back in surprise, then exchange a glance. All of their glances seem to say the same thing: _She really doesn't _know_?_

"Because of the Xīn Shìjiè," Cana says. "They're trying to take over the world"

"The . . . what?" I ask, nearly falling out of my seat. "The _what-now_ is trying to take over the _world_?!"

"The Xīn, for short," Macao explains. "They started out in the Chinese Military, the communist's son decided that he wanted more than what he was going to get. So he rallied up some people who agreed with him, followers. They've already taken over all of Asia and the Middle East; they've now directed themselves to America. Honestly, you haven't heard of any of this"

"How could she, Macao, she was in a Safe Zone!" Wakaba retorts with a roll of his eyes.

"What the hell is a Safe Zone?" I snap.

"A town or city that shut themselves off from the world outside," Cana explains. "Some of them went as far as to remove themselves off the map. By erasing their trace off the U.S. and breaking off contact with any news and the government, they keep themselves out of the Xīn's grasp. I guess we know now that that doesn't really work"

"Think about it," Wakaba says. "Did you ever watch the news or read a newspaper? No wait, you're a teenager. Did you ever see your dad watching the news or reading a newspaper? Did you ever watch a sports game or have a team come to your town? Did you dad even tell you that the U.S. was under attack"

The correct answer was no. My last baseball game was a home game, and that was over a year ago. The news channel was cut off; a newspaper was never delivered to our house. But that wasn't it. I never found any magazine, not in any of the stores. I didn't even get new books or mangas or graphic novels; things stayed the same for four years straight. It came known as the "Internet Age", a joke to the kids of my neighborhood, because everything had to be found and read off the internet. But I never even noticed that anything was wrong, there was only a slight suspicion. Yeah, a few of my books were late. I didn't think it was because an Asian cult was trying to take over the world!

"No," I answer. "We didn't even get new books. All of the imports were shut off; the only thing we got was food"

"That might be how they found you," Macao says. "I have a friend in New York, he told me the Xīn have another meaning to this world domination wacky thing they have going on. I have no idea what it is though―"

"New York?" I ask, standing up. "The Xīn headquarters, it's in New York City?"

"Yeah, why?" Macao asks.

"I _have_ to get there!" I say, grabbing my backpack and slinging it over my shoulder. "Is there a train station around here?"

"Lucy, you can't go to New York! They'll kill you!" Cana says; her eyes wide in horror. "Kill you or turn you into one of _them_!"

"What is one of them?" I ask, and I'm only met with silence. Before anyone can even answer me, I start talking. "Frankly, I don't really care. I only left the safety of my town because I want to find my dad, and if that means I get turned into _them_, then so be it"

"Where's your honor?" Macao asks, with pity in his voice, rather than anger. "Have you no pride?"

"I've got pride," I say, turning. "But pride's useless when you're dead. And even more so when you've died alone".

I let the doors close behind me as I walk forward, into the smoke-filled air.

"Lucy!"

I turn, seeing Cana run up to me. She is covering her mouth with her arm, tears leaking out of her eyes because of the smoke. "I can't stop you, I know that. There's a train station up north, it can take you to the big city" she hands me what looks to be a tin lunchbox. "For your trip."

"Thank you" I say, and she hugs me, right on the spot. She's almost a stranger, but I know she cares, so I return the hug. I don't know why she even bothers to care about the girl who couldn't pay for her drink, but for some reason unknown to this universe, I'm glad she does.

"Be careful," she says. I nod in response, then head in the direction she told me.

I don't look back.

* * *

_**NO MISTAKES WERE MADE IN THIS CHAPTER! The fact that it goes from past-tense to present tense is on purpose. I want it to go from Lucy telling what happened (AKA the destruction of her town, finding the remains, etc.) to her current situation, trying to find her dad and so on. **_

_**I know that Cana and Lucy were very OOC here, but I think I got Macao and Wakaba pretty good. They do gossip like teenaged girls, that you have to admit. **_

_**And if you know a thing or two about North Carolina (like I do) you'd know we don't have a baseball team. I live in the Carolinas (not saying which one) so I wanted Magnolia to be in one of them. I also wanted Lucy to end up in the other. Hiro Mashima-Sama never says where Magnolia is (besides Fiore, and where exactly is that, anyway?) so I randomly gave it a state. In my last fanfic it was California, so I'm not favorite-ing a specific place. **_

_**Like it, love it, hate it? I'd appreciate it if you reviewed!**_

_**Aye, Sir!, **_

ブルー忍者マンガ22


	3. the World: In Shades of Ash

_**Thanks for the reviews, guys! I'm really excited about writing this story; I've got big plans, big plans! **_

_**I don't own Fairy Tail; I only own any future O.C.s. I also own the plot of this story. Who knows, maybe it'll become a new A.U. thing. Maybe I'll start a trend! *laughs* **_

_**~ * ~ * Day 3 ~ * ~ *  
~ * ~ * the World: In Shades of Ash ~ * ~ * **_

The train station is dark, with only one light bulb, and it flickers on and off by the seconds. The place is as empty as my pockets, except for a single person standing behind the counter. An old man, asleep on his desk, with a bit of drool dripping from his mouth and onto the table. I don't want to be rude, so I lightly tap him on the head.

He jerks awake, looking around wildly, as if I'd blown a foghorn into his ear, rather than tapped his head. His nametag is upside-down, and the handwriting is like a child's. Even though it is upside-down, I can still read what it says. _Hello! My name is: Jacob. _

"What 'cho want?" he asks.

"A ticket," I say, handing him my credit card. He swipes it in a dusty old machine, and hands me a ticket. It's already dusty and moth-eaten, even though it only just came out of the machine. I only have to wait for five minutes, that seem to happen much too quickly, and then the train comes. It is as beaten and rusty as the rest of the train station, but I suppose it will work.

Just like the train station, the train itself is completely empty. From my seat, I can see a bird's nest in one of the corners. I twiddle my thumbs, wondering if the train even has a conductor, or if the train is just magically driving itself.

"_Hey, I just met you, and this is crazy, but here's my number, so call me, maybe?_"

I jump up, hearing a voice come from the intercom. I hate to say it, but the singing didn't stop from there. I walk to the front of the train, the door wide open. There is short man in the conductor's seat, hardly dressed to fit his job, singing into the intercom as if he was on American Idol. I knock lightly on the door, and when he doesn't hear me, I clear my throat.

"What the―_oh, god_!" he falls right out of his seat, throwing his arms out in every possible direction. "How long have you been standing there?"

"A few seconds, but that doesn't really matter, considering the fact that you're singing into the intercom" I say, smiling to myself. The ridiculousness of the situation makes me laugh; it's the first time I've laughed since my neighborhood was bombed.

"I didn't know anyone was on here, they don't bother to tell me" the man says. "My name is Makarov Dreyar, call me whatever you want."

"Lucy," I say, glancing around. The front of the train consists of wrappers and empty McDonald's bags, along with about fifteen empty soda bottles. "Why wouldn't they tell you if a passenger's on board?"

"I guess because no one wants to go anywhere. Nobody's come on this deathtrap with wheels for about a year," Makarov answers. "But, because it's my job, every day at the same time I ride from Charlestown to the Big Apple. It's completely pointless"

"_Deathtrap_?" I exclaim, looking around wildly. "Please tell me this thing is _safe_!"

"Of course it's safe, if it wasn't, I wouldn't be here." Makarov rolls his eyes. "I call it a deathtrap because of the fuel capacity. If this thing were to run out and stop in the middle of nowhere, I'd have no way to get home"

That piece of information makes me nervous, constantly glancing at the fuel tank every couple of seconds.

* * *

I wake up in the back, rubbing my eyes. I am laying on one of the seats, asleep as comfortably as if I was in an actual bed, rather than chairs. But when I stand up, I can feel my back crack and pop painfully. Comfort doesn't matter to my body, apparently.

"_Lucy, wakey-wakey_!" Makarov's voice says through the intercom. "_We're he-re!_"

I jump to my feet, rushing out of the train. But instead of finding a train station, I find that Makarov has stopped the train in the middle of the tracks. I can see the lights and buildings of the city, but I'm only a few steps away from the actual city.

"I can't go to the actual city, are you crazy?" Makarov scoffs. "You're going to have to walk"

"But―!" I exclaim, just as the train takes off without me. I resist the urge to scream at the sky or call him a stupid old man, and I turn and walk to the city. It only takes a few paces to enter the city, and due to my current clothing, I already feel in place.

It was all gray. Every inch of it.

The buildings were that horrible shade of dark gray, not to mention all of the people's clothes. I am a bit underdressed, judging by the suit-and-tie outfits of everyone else, but it is all the same general form of color. It was all black and gray, the colors of soot and ash. It seems like a bastardization of all the bombing the Xīn have been doing, but I keep quiet.

The second thing I noticed was the number of electronics all over the place. People held Kindles or Nooks as newspapers, even the maps for things like buses and subways were electronics. There doesn't seem to be a piece of paper in sight, not from any angle.

I look around, and try to find any sign of my father. I mentally scold myself for being so stupid. Yeah, I made it to New York. Now what? It's not like my dad is going to appear out of thin air. While he's at it, maybe he should bring cake. And a giant banner that says "congrats, Lucy! You've saved the world by coming to New York City! The Xīn is gone, and now all our lives can return to normal!"

What in the world am I supposed to do now?

I only wander for a few more seconds, then a rather rude and demanding voice exclaims "_Halt, you!_"

I turn around quickly, seeing a man in what could be a police's uniform. Except it was completely black, with a few assorted badges, and what could either be an army helmet or a very serious motorcycle helmet. He overlooks me with a serious eye, no sign of emotion anywhere on his face. I give a nervous smile, drawing invisible circles with my feet.

"Evening, officer" I smile. "Is there a problem . . . ?"

"First offence, color," he says, pointing to the pinkness of my hat with his pen. "Second offence, emotion"

"What? Oh, I, um" I clear my throat, pulling my hood over my hat and try to keep a straight face through my fear. "I'm sorry"

"You're not from around here, are you?" he asks. Even though he's asking a question, there is no tone of curiosity in his voice. He doesn't care about me or why I'm here or if I am a citizen. The passion that most people have for their jobs is missing in him.

"N-no, sir, I'm from here. Born and raised" my lie is so bad I can practically taste it's falseness in my voice. It seems as if the officer could see my lie as well, but I can't see it in his face. He is completely emotionless, through and through.

"I.D. please" the officer says.

"W-What?" I splutter.

"I.D., show me your citizenship I.D." the officer says.

I don't know what to do, and I don't know what I'm supposed to even show him. I can feel the sweat drip down the back of my neck, and I panic. I turn on my heels, taking of running at fastest speed my legs can take me. I can hear him call after me, yelling for me to stop, but I keep going. I shove people out of my way, and I notice that they are as emotionless as the officer. They don't notice me, they don't even care. They all wear blank expressions, emotionless faces, and don't even say a thing as I make my way through.

I turn down an alley, and ram right into someone. The man is at least seven feet tall, and in the same black uniform as the other officer. I try to run off, but the second officer grabs me by my shoulders, and I am suspending about six feet in the air. I kick and squirm, but the man doesn't seem to even notice my struggles.

"Commander!" the man shouts. But instead of the one officer that I first met, there are about ten of them, give or take a few. They all walk behind a woman in a black uniform that was studded with medals. The woman is the only one not wearing a helmet, her long white hair falling over her shoulders. A single strand of her hair sticks up, forming what could be a small halo around her head, like an angel. But something tells me she is the exact opposite.

The woman smirks, the first sign of emotion I've seen all day. She over looks my outfit and smiles. "What a cute little _boy_"

Somehow she knows. She knows about the insecurity, what I thought of myself when I scavenged these clothes from ashes. I don't know how, but something about her makes me know that she somehow looked into my soul and saw everything I hated about myself. And then used it against me.

"Take her backpack," the woman commands. The man restraining me does as she commands, holding me back with one hand and using the other to dump the contents of my backpack on the ground. Everything I found from my house, pictures, extra clothing, my journal, a scrap book, even pieces of spare jewelry that I dug up. The woman doesn't even touch it, she just rolls her eyes.

"Useless junk," she scoffs, and then picks up my journal, opening it up. I remember with a jolt that I wrote my name down in there.

"Lucy Heartfilia," she reads, and then turns to the officer behind her. "Look her up!"

The man takes out what looks to be either a side-kick cellphone or a handheld game, and quickly types something in. "Lucy Heartfilia, age 17, daughter of Layla and Jude Heartfilia, of divorced status. A citizen of Magnolia Town, North Carolina"

"Well, you're a long ways from home, darling." The woman smirks. "Wait, Magnolia? Didn't we just have that place Treated?"

"Yes, Commander Angel," the man says.

"_Treated_? What do you mean _treated_?" I snap, sounding as angry as I felt. "You bombed that place before you gave them a _chance _to be treated!"

"Damn, she's one of those rebels" the woman, Angel, growls in disgust. "Another one running around like a rat"

"I'm not a rebel! I'm trying to find my dad!" I exclaim. "Let me _go_! I'm not doing anything wrong!"

"Sweetie, if you're dad came from Magnolia, he's dead. Shot or blown to pieces" Angel says with a smile. As if she enjoys my pain. "Sorry, honey"

"You're―you're lying!" I exclaim, but I can feel the tears spill down my cheeks. The possibility that my dad was already dead has always been in the back of my mind, but I don't want to believe that I've came all this way for nothing. That all of my hope was in vain.

"Oh, I hate to see tears. But I do love to see worthless people cry," Angel smirks. "You do make me happy, Lucy." She looks up to the man restraining me. "Take her to the prisons at the headquarters. She'll be Treated by tomorrow"

* * *

_**God, I tried to make Angel as bitchy as I could in a few paragraphs. But I feel like it was totally cliché and OOC. Epic fail. . _. **_

_**As for Makarov, I think I got his personality ok. I can promise you that he's got a bigger part in the story, though. Natsu will be showing up in the next chapter!**_

_**Aye, Sir!, **_

ブルー忍者マンガ22


	4. the World: Virtually

_**There is one Natsu in this chapter. See if you can spot him!**_

_**~ * ~ * Day 4 ~ * ~ * **_

_**~ * ~ * the World: Virtually ~ * ~ ***_

I quickly discover that I do _not_ like prison.

The man throws me in, letting my tumble on the stone floor. I try to catch myself with my hands, but it only scrapes my palms as well as my legs and knees. I turn and look over my shoulder, seeing the man slam the door. He says nothing, and there is no sign that he even cares on his face. He probably doesn't care.

But I have already caught on. I'm not stupid. I don't care what people think when they see my blonde hair and my make-up, when they overlook my Abercrombie and Aeropostale clothing. I am very much a girly-girl, but that doesn't make me an idiot.

I remember Cana warning me that New York could kill me or turn me into one of _them_. How Makarov refused to enter the city, even by train. How empty the train station was, why everyone in that tavern refused to go anywhere. It wasn't because of laziness or of precaution; all of their actions were made out of fear.

The man doesn't care because he can't.

I don't know how. It's impossible to erase the emotion and opinion out of someone; those are two traits that make us human, traits that differ us from animals. Taking those away shouldn't be possible, and if it was, it should be illegal. But it was, and somehow, it was very much legal.

I have officially failed. I couldn't save my neighborhood, even if that one did come out of the blue. But I hid in the basement like a child. I'm 17 years old, I should have been brave enough to face my fate with my dad. I should have fought. I should have stood up to those men when they invaded my house, and even my basement. But I didn't.

I couldn't save my dad. After I had walked across the state and into another, and took a train all the way to New York, I found nothing. I came empty-handed, and I'm stuck empty-handed. I was stupid for thinking I even had a chance.

And now, I can't even save myself. The meaning of Angel's word 'Treated' seems crystal clear to me now. They thought they were curing me, or maybe they just wanted me to shut me up, but the outcome would be the same. I would become emotionless, an empty shell of a human being, walking around with no say in anything and no point in even living.

I realize at that moment that I'm at the bottom of a pit with no rope and no ladder, looking up into the freedom of the world, and knowing that I am never going to climb out. It is all hopeless; I have done this all for nothing.

My lower lip quivers, and I bit it. I am not going to cry. There is no use; it isn't going to fix anything. I am not going to cry. Not when there are security cameras, not when I'm already a laughing stock to them. I am not going to cry. I am not going to cry. I am not going to cry. I am not going to cry. I am not going to―.

I'm not even strong enough to hold in tears. I let out a gasp and tears streak down my face, sobs escaping my mouth, leaving me practically choking on my own sadness. I begin to hiccup, my eyes going bloodshot and my nose turning red. I am crying like a baby, gripping onto the bars of the prison. I know that I am about to face something that could be worse than death, and maybe even death, since they already think I'm nothing but trouble. I am not strong enough, nor am I brave enough.

I'm nothing but a fool.

* * *

It must have been around midnight, and I was already asleep on the only bed occupying my cell. It was nothing but a rectangular-shaped piece of metal attacked to the wall, like a park bench, but much less uncomfortable.

I am barley asleep, so the sound of a lock clicking wakes me up immediately. I hear footsteps, and before I can even turn to see who has entered my cell, a pair of hands clamp around my mouth. My eyes widen as someone drags me out of the cell, and rather roughly, I might add.

I kick and squirm, but my kidnapper ignores me, and only continues to drag me down the hall. I have no choice, and without thinking twice about my actions, I bite down hard on his palm. I bite so hard I can taste blood.

"Ow!" My kidnapper exclaims, releasing his grasp on my mouth. With my new limb freedom, I turn around quickly and slap the kidnapper, hard in the face. I'll admit; I don't know how much it hurt, since he was wearing a hockey mask. But judging by the fact that my hand now hurt, and the loud _crack_ that could be heard from the impact, I'm guessing it hurt.

"Are you _crazy_?" My kidnapper snaps, he's a male, judging by his voice. "That _hurt_!"

"Well, I'm sorry, but I don't react lightly to people who try to _kidnap _me!" I retort, clenching my teeth and putting my hands on my hips.

"What are you―? _Kidnap you_?! You're in _jail_, you dumbass, who in their right mind would kidnap someone who's in jail?" he exclaims, and I know he's angry.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I guess we all stop and think of the possibilities when someone in a hockey mask tries to _smother you_!" I snap. I know he has a point, but I also know that I have a point, so I decide to fight. But before he can even say anything, an alarm blares.

"We don't have much time, they've already figured out that you're gone" the boy says, grabbing my wrist. But I immediately shove him off me.

"I'm not going anywhere with a faceless stranger!" I exclaim.

The boy sighs in annoyance, lifting up his mask. He's handsome, in an unusual sort of way. His eyes are an onyx color, and his hair is an abnormally bright bubble gum pink. I smile at the thought of all the pink-related jokes I can make, but my smile only gains a weird look from him. He rolls his eyes and pulls the mask back down.

"There. Now you have a face," he says, running off, dragging me along with him. "My name's Natsu. What's yours?"

"Lucy! You're rescuing me and you don't even know who I am?" I exclaim as we turn a corner.

"I wasn't looking for anyone in specific, I was told to rescue any prisoners" Natsu says. "You fit that bill"

"There's the exit!" I exclaim, but as I walk in the direction of the exit, Natsu grabs me by the collar of my shirt and yanks me backwards.

"What the―? What the hell are you doing?" I growl. Natsu doesn't answer, he only points at the ceiling. I look up and clasp my hand over my mouth. The ceiling is bright, neon green with vertical lines over it. Like how the entire world looks in some video games.

"Are . . . are we in some sort of game?" I ask.

"No," Natsu answers. "The prison is real, but it's half virtual. It's pretty much just a 'fake maze', if you want a name for it. This whole place is designed to mess with your head. It's designed so if you escape the prison, you'll never find your way out. You think you're in some sort of crazy labyrinth, so you just repeatedly walk around in circles, basically waiting there patiently for the Xīn's Soldier's to find you."

I scream as I see something come up behind Natsu. It is a creature at the end of the hallway, a lion that looks bigger than any lion I have ever seen in any zoo, textbook, or T.V. show. Its fur spikes into blades, its teeth look like three sets of nothing but fangs, every single tooth ending in a knife-sharp point. Its claws click against the stone floor as it runs up, roaring as it came closer.

"_Natsu, behind you_!" I screech, pointing. Natsu turned just as the lion leapt, but there was no fear or surprise in his eyes. He looked as if something like this happens every day. His arm moves in a motion as if he is going to punch the lion, but instead, his fist goes directly through the lion's chest.

I scream as the blood falls on the floor, seeing Natsu's fist appear out of the lion's body. The lion's corpse only exists for mere second after its sudden death, and its body explodes into what looked to be billions of pixels. Even the blood, which seemed to be everywhere, had disappeared.

"See? It's nothing but an illusion," Natsu says, grabbing my wrist and running off. "C'mon, the exit's this way"

The alarms blare as we run, and Natsu stops next to a window. He opens it, perching himself on the windowpane. I look down and a shriek of terror escapes my lips; we are at least twenty stories in the air. And by his position, he expected me to jump.

"_You're insane_!" I exclaim, and in my fear, I find myself crying again. This is something I hate about myself; how easily I cry. I cry when I'm sad, when I'm scared, when I'm terrified, when I'm frustrated. I am probably the biggest crybaby to ever hit the planet. "_We're both going to die_!"

"Just trust me!" Natsu says, holding out his hand. I can hear the footsteps of the Xīn soldiers, and I know that I don't want to be like them. I want to have an opinion, a voice, and I want to live. The thought that they could kill me, that I could die, terrifies me. I don't want to die. I really don't. But with the Xīn and with Natsu, I really don't have much of a choice.

I grasp Natsu's hand, squeeze my eyes shut, and jump.

* * *

_**CLIFFHANGER!**_

_**I know you guys were expecting romance, and I'm sorry if that scene with the lion was graphic. But, you know, good things come to those who wait, my lovelies. **_

_**Like it, love it, hate it? (I'm almost afraid to ask the third one, in case any of you hate me right now). I'd appreciate it if you reviewed!**_

_**Aye, Sir!, **_

ブルー忍者漫画22


	5. The World: Unforgiving

_**Thanks for all the reviews! I know it's late, but Happy Thanksgiving! **_

_**I don't own Fairy Tail. **_

_**~ * ~ * Day 5 ~ * ~ *  
~ * ~ * the World: Unforgiving ~ * ~ * **_

I am a fearful person.

I won't even lie about that.

I fear many things, and at the top of this long and complicated list is death. I fear it more than anything; the fear of dying terrifies me. I can honestly say that my every move is carefully made around my everyday attempt to avoid death, and I doubt that I'm not the only one who does that.

However, I realized my strong case of Thanatophobia when I was in the third grade. I was lying in bed on a Tuesday night, of a month I can't remember, when I realized that one day I was going to die, that it was going to happen to _me_, that it could hurt, and that it could be closer than I thought. That was, in fact, a very long and sleepless night for me, and random nights like it have come to affect me since.

Given with the fear of death comes the fear to take risks. Thrills aren't exactly my favorite things, and I fail to see the 'fun' in watching horror movies. Give me more creative options to think about my death, thank you, that's nice. If staying on the safe side means staying alive; then I love that option.

And now, some maniac named Natsu, who only rescued me because I was a prisoner, was asking me to jump from twenty stories up.

"_You're insane_!" I exclaim, and in my fear, I find myself crying again. "_We're both going to die_!"

"Just trust me!" Natsu says, holding out his hand. The thought that the Xīn could kill me, that I could die, terrifies me. I don't want to die. I really don't. But with the Xīn and with Natsu, I really don't have much of a choice.

I grasp Natsu's hand, squeeze my eyes shut, and jump.

I don't like thrills; I don't like the adrenaline rush that comes with them. I guess you can just imagine my joy as I fall to the ground.

Falling takes less time then I expect it would, as the wind whips through my hair and makes my face red and my eyes water. But I scream and cling onto Natsu's shirt, trying to find something to make me less scared.

There was a weird feeling, one like when an elevator stops suddenly. And I can feel the ground beneath my feet, and I know that I am alive. Turning around, I can see the window that we had jumped through. It was only about seven feet in the air.

An illusion.

I only thought we were falling from that high up.

But . . . I had felt so real, so terrifying. I could have sworn we were jumping from that high up, and I felt it all. I reach up and touch my face, feeling for the tears I thought came from my eyes when we jumped, the water from my eyes. Nothing; even that was an illusion.

"Natsu!"

I glance around, seeing a group of people run up. There was a redheaded woman, who seemed to be the leader of the group, dressed completely in gray battle armor. Following her was a boy with spiked black hair, a handsome boy with hair looks like a lion's mane, a pair of grinning twins, a girl with short white hair, and tall, muscular man who kept breaking things.

"Is she the only one?" the redheaded woman asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Only one I found," Natsu answers, a glint of fear in his eyes. He is afraid of her, deathly afraid, I can tell.

"Hey, big brother!" one of the twins laughs. "Why don't you tell her to let go of your shirt, already? You seem to be enjoying yourself!"

I realize with a jolt that I hadn't let go of Natsu's shirt. I jump backwards, my face red, speaking random gibberish at warp speed in a failed attempt to explain myself. My desperation only makes the twins laugh more.

"Shut up, Aya," Natsu growls at the twin in question.

"Really, Natsu? _I'm _Inuria, _she's_ Aya" the girl rolls her eyes in annoyance.

"Oh, sorry"

"_Seriously_?! I was _lying_!"

"Well, how was I supposed to know that?!"

"We're your sisters!"

"You're _identical twins_, how the hell am I supposed to tell you apart─?"

"Sorry to interrupt your little family crisis," the boy with the spiky black hair says. "But I don't want to get caught by the thirty billion soldiers currently looking for us in there!"

"Gray's right," the redheaded woman says, signaling for all of us to follow her. "Let's go, move out!"

"Where're we going?" I exclaim, but I don't hesitate to follow them.

"To Safe-Haven," the girl with short white hair runs up to me and smiles. "I know you'll love it there"

"Safe-Haven?" I ask. "What's that?"

The girl looks at me, and I notice her eyes are a light, sky blue. But even with the twinkle in her eye and the smile on her face, I can see the small twinge of sadness in her eyes. "It's a safe place for people like us"

* * *

Angel Sky was the commanding officer of all of the East side of New York, where most trains entered the city. She went through all of the physical and mental training of being a commander for one reason, and that was to keep her emotions. Only commanding officers were granted the privilege of keeping their opinion, while all those lower were reduced to empty shells of human beings.

Angel remembered waiting on that cold, December night in complete fear. There were only four commanding officers out of over one thousand people trying to get that role. One for every compass point, she had waited for the Lieutenant to announce the lucky four who were to become commanding officers.

Out of the thousands, she won. Among the selected was her, along with a young man named Sting Eucliffe, a young woman named Karen Lilica, and a young man named Rogue Cheney. Equality was a strong point in the Xīn Shìjiè, so there had to be two male and two female commanding officers.

Along with the equality measure, however, there was also the frequent use of the death penalty. If you screw up once, it's death. That rule was easily avoided to the Erased, but not to the few privileged to keep emotion. The Lieutenant that had announced her as a commander had once forgotten to do an inspection on 25th street, and he was dead by the next morning. Just because of one mistake.

And at the moment in question, Angel is terrified. For she had made one mistake.

The Dictator was what he called himself, for he believed that any other title would be a mockery to himself, as well as a lie. Once you got high enough in the Xīn Shìjiè, your rank was forgotten, and you were called simply by your rank.

"S-sir, I'm s-sorry. . ." Angel pleads; kneeling on her kneels, looking down at the floor.

"Commander Sky," there is the sound of a chair's legs scratching against the hardwood floor, and the sound of a chair leaning back. "How many prisoners did you have in the prison at the time? Three? Four?"

Angel gulps "One"

"Ah, yes, the solitary number. One." The Dictator's voice is dripping with loathe and sarcasm, as he takes a bit out of an apple. "Yet, with only one prisoner, she somehow managed to escape. I believe she was also wounded from the explosion?"

"I─I don't know what you m-mean," Angel whispers.

"She was from Magnolia, a town we Treated," the Dictator says. "Don't you think the impact from the explosion, plus the rubble and dust that was on her clothing and all around her, would have caused severe medical problems? Her lungs would be so full of ash, she would barley be able to stand"

"T-that makes s-sense, s-sir," Angel says, biting her bottom lip, feeling the sweat drip down her forehead.

"And you're prison has the Labyrinth Effect, doesn't it?" the Dictator smiles, her fear bringing him utmost joy. "Going by the current facts we have just mentioned, she could barley walk in a straight line in a prison filled with hallucinations. Yet, she somehow staggered her way out of the prisons and into safety. How is that?"

"W-we─we suspect she h-had help . . ." Angel mutters.

"Ah, which brings me to another point." The Dictator smiles. "In your own defense, a rebel broke into the prisons, found this prisoner, and found a way to get both of them out before any of the soldiers could find them. Doesn't that sound a bit odd to you, Sky?"

"S-Sir . . . please . . ." Angel whispered.

"You made a mistake, Sky," the Dictator says. "And you know what happens to those who make mistakes"

"_No_!" Angel shrieks, finding herself panicking. She worked this hard and came this far to keep her emotions and her life, and she wasn't going to loose both of them at the same time. "It's not my fault! The street officers were in charge of security, not me! If you have to kill anyone, kill them! Let me live, please, let me live!"

Angel is panting as the Dictator walks over to her, holding her chin with his hand. Angel gave a small, desperate smile, the sweat beading down her forehead and mixing in her hair.

_CRACK!_

The Dictator lashes out a hand, slapping the Commanding Officer across the face. Angel falls to the ground, a hand going to her face, feeling the red mark on her cheek that the impact had left.

"You've gotten desperate. It was disgusting," the Dictator growled. "I'll make you a deal, Sky. Bring me back the girl, dead or alive, and I'll let you live."

"W-will I k-keep my p-position?" Angel asks, tears forming in the corners of her eyes.

"That," the Dictator says, taking a bit out of a red apple. "Will be decided on how well you do"

* * *

_**Drama, huh? Sorry that Natsu and the others didn't show up much in this chapter, but I at least got some sentimental thoughts of Lucy's out there. **_

_**Like it, love it, hate it? I'd appreciate it if you reviewed!**_

_**Aye, Sir!, **_

_**Ninja **_


	6. the World: Containing Safety

_**Sorry this update took forever . . . -.-**_

_**~ * ~ * Day 6 ~ * ~ *  
~ * ~ * the World: Containing Safety ~ * ~ ***_

I am terrified, and not to mention completely alone, in a sense of comfort. Even the girl with the white hair, who had introduced herself to be named Lisanna, had walked ahead to be with the twins. The three of them seemed to be close friends, and I remember with a pang of sadness the kind of friends that I had before my home was destroyed.

The redheaded woman─Lisanna said she was called Erza─stopped before what looked to be a shack that was falling apart. I grab the loose fabric around my shoulders and bring it closer to my skin, getting a small feeling of home.

"W-what's that?" I ask, glancing around, expecting to see Xīn soldiers running out from all corners.

"It _was _an old bomb shelter, back from World War 2," the twin standing on the right, whom Lisanna introduced to me earlier as Aya, smirks. "But it's ours, now."

Erza motions for us to follow her, allowing me to run in first. I suppose it's because she knows I'm terrified, and I am the weakest one in our group. I notice that Erza is the last to enter; she is the noble kind.

I glance around, trying to find anything here that can be defined as 'safe'. The place is falling apart as much on the inside as it was on the out, nearly everything is either dusty or a pile of dust. I shriek as I feel something furry against my ankle, and then see a pair of red eyes glaring at me under the bed.

"P-Please tell m-me t-this isn't t-the p-place?" I splutter, pointing to the eyes that hid under the bed. I was _not _going to sleep in a bed that I knew a monster was hiding under.

"You're in luck, Blondie," the boy with the spiky hair, Gray, I think, smiles. He gestures to Erza, who walks over to a fading painting of a young girl and an old man on the wall. She removes it, revealing a nearly invisible button that was the same color as the wallpaper. As she pushed it, an opening appeared on the floor.

"You," Erza says, pointing to me. "Go down first"

"Don't need to tell me twice," I mutter, looking down to see a condescending staircase. I walk down a couple of steps, and then wait. I wait for a few people to pass me, but I start walking as Natsu enters. I don't know why, but I feel safest around him. Maybe it's because I met him first.

Natsu is holding up his cell phone for light, as is everyone else. My cell phone is most likely a melted mess under miles of rubble right now, which is a shame, because I had an Iphone 5. I don't know what to say, so I just walk, hugging myself lightly as we decend down the stairway.

Natsu glances over, and then sighs. "Do you want to hear a story?"

"Huh?" I ask.

"Do you want to hear a story, you know, to pass the time" Natsu offers. "It's a long staircase"

"S-sure," I mutter, glancing down.

"Did you see the painting of the girl and the old man? Back there?" Natsu asks. When I nod, he continues. "We don't know much about them, so we make up stories about them. My favorite is called 'For the Love of a Daughter'"

Intrigued, I listen as he talks. "It's said that the man was very rich, but he was sad after his wife died. Because of his sadness, he gave little attention to his only daughter. She was so insensly ignored by her father, the girl became quiet and secluded from the world.

"When War World 2 started, the father was called in for war. Overnight, he realized his love for his daughter, and how wrong he was for neglecting her. So, in an attempt to keep her safe, he spent all of his money on this bomb shelter to keep her safe. Every last penny was spent on food and entertainment, as well as this secret passageway to keep his daughter safe.

"Time passed, and the war ended, but the daughter completely safe. She hadn't experienced the trauma of the war, and she was completely unharmed. But when she got home, she met a soldier, and he told her that her father died in the war.

"Other than the prepaid bills and the new Bomb Shelter, the only thing her father left her was a long letter telling her how to survive if he should die. He also said that he reminded her so much of her mother, and that he loved her with all his heart.

"So even though the daughter was sad, she was happy at the same time. Because even though most of the time she spent with her father wasn't happy, she knew that her father loved her" Natsu smiles. "I suppose the story would have been better if he hadn't blown all his money on the Bomb Shelter and only left her with a goodbye, a fortune, and a sentimental letter. But we had to include this place somehow"

"That's a nice story," I say. "You said that was one of the stories?"

"There are others," Natsu says. "Some say they were forbidden lovers, others say they were strangers. Some say he was her uncle, cousin, grandfather. I just like that version best"

"Me, too" I say, shuddering at the thought of such a young girl being in love with such an old man. I look up as the stairway stops, showing a giant wooden door. Lisanna and the twins happen to be in front, so they were the ones to push it open.

The light is bright to my eyes, so I close my eyes for a moment. When I open them I gasp.

The first thing I notice is the fact that people are literally _everywhere_. Sitting at tables, at what looked to be a bar, set with a TV. It looked to be more like a bar than anything. There was a pool table, a couple of vending machines that were both broken and empty, and a few doors that I take lead to bedrooms and weaponries.

"Welcome to Safe-Haven," Natsu says, gesturing around.

I smile at the homeliness of it all. A few people were having a soda-drinking contest, while a group of people were having the time of their lives screaming because of a football game on the game. When I look at the TV, though, I realize something weird.

"They're watching a re-run," I say. "That game happened last week"

"Now, what does a prissy girl like you know about football?" Natsu asks, raising an eyebrow.

"I used to watch Sunday football with my dad," I roll my eyes.

"Perhaps," a voice says from the bar. "It's to get a sense of relaxation, of home. Most of these people are still catching up on the sports world because their homes have been destroyed. Watching a game at what feels like a sports bar . . . focusing on something so fun and pointless gives one a sense of safety, of home"

I turn to the speaker of wise words, and my mouth falls open. Sitting at the bar were a few familiar faces; ones I didn't expect to see again. There was Cana (currently chugging an entire barrel of beer with no trouble. I wouldn't have guessed her to be the type), Macao, and Wakaba. And the strangest one, the owner of the wise words just spoken, was the old man from the train. The one who took me here.

"_Makarov_?!" I exclaim.

"You know Master Makarov?" Natsu asks.

"_Master_? What is he, some sort of king?" I say, staring down the old man.

"Welcome, Lucy," Makarov smiles, and his smile is kind and warm. He takes a long drink of beer, and then speaks again. "I've been expecting you"

* * *

_**Didn't I say I had a bigger role planned for Makarov? Well, there you have it! **_

_**As for the little story Natsu told, I am proud of the story itself. I'm just sorry he told it OOC-ly. I mean, I doubt Natsu even knows what the word 'secluded' means. **_

_**I guess there was a little bit of NaLu in this chapter, if you squint. Don't worry, it's coming. I'm just pacing myself, here. **_

_**Like it, love it, hate it? I'd appreciate it if you reviewed! **_

_**Aye, Sir!, **_

_**Ninja **_


	7. The World: in a safe place

_**Thanks so much for the reviews, guys! You're all incredibly awesome! I'm sorry this chapter took so long, but I have two other stories I'm working on at the moment, and I'm thinking of writing another one. (*-.-) Sorry. **_

_**I don't own Fairy Tail. **_

_**~ * ~ * Day 6, nighttime ~ * ~ * **_

_**~ * ~ * The World: in a safe place ~ * ~ * **_

"We'll have another round," Makarov says to a pretty white-haired woman behind the counter. "And I think Cana needs a new barrel of ale"

"I do!" Cana exclaims, throwing the barrel behind her. It lands on a pile of empty barrels sitting in the back of the room. I glance at Cana, trying to picture the bartender I saw back in South Carolina, but she hardly fit that picture anymore. She now wore a pink belt, brown pants, and nothing but a blue swimsuit top.

The white-haired bartender hands me a glass of wine, but I only hand it to Natsu. I've never liked wine, and just because society is falling apart, doesn't mean I'm going to start. I ask for a diet soda, and she hands it to me with a strange look, as if nobody had ever asked for anything nonalcoholic.

"Can't take a little wine?" Natsu asks.

"No," I answer, not even bothering to say some smart comeback. All I wanted was answers.

"I suppose," Makarov takes a long sip of a wine, a sip that seems to last forever. "That you want answers. That you're confused."

"I am," I say, watching the ice clink in my glass.

"It's a long story"

"I've got time"

Makarov sighs "Tell me what you do know"

"What Cana told me," I respond. "That the group is called the Xīn Shìjiè, or the Xīn, for short. I know they started out from the Chinese military and their leader is the Chinese communist's son. I know they've already taken over all of Asia and the Middle East, and that now they're aiming for the U.S."

"Not just the U.S.," Macao says, glaring at Cana (who wasn't paying attention, and was only chugging down more ale). "They've gotten Mexico and most of Canada. Can't think of only America, now, can we?"

"Oh, joy," I say, rolling my eyes. "I just want to know what this is, who you really are, and all that kind of stuff"

"Right," Makarov takes in a deep breath, then began talking. "I founded this place, beginning last year. Its name pretty much says everything about it: it's a Safe-Haven, a place for survivors with emotion left in them. Our mission is to try to keep a good amount of the population safe from the Xīn"

"And you're going to try to fight them," I say. "When you've got enough people"

"That was the intention," Wakaba says, letting out a puff of smoke from his cigar. "But then our population wasn't growing fast enough, there just aren't many people that can survive a Xīn 'Treatment'. So a couple of people are sent out at a time to bordering towns, with different last names, to convince survivors to join our cause. Last time it was me, Macao, Cana, and the Master"

"Now it's Bisca and Alzack and their kid," Macao says. "But Azuka's adorable, so they'll probably reel in some people"

"So, what?" I ask. "You guys just sit here, drinking beer and watching reruns of old football games?"

"Oh contraire, my friend" Natsu smirks. "I'm drinking _wine_, and they're now watching reruns of old _baseball_ games"

"Whatever!" I exclaim, gritting my teeth in frustration. "The only reason I came here was to find my dad. Can you can't you guys help me do that?"

Makarov glances around sadly, and then looks down. "No, child, we can't. Neither you or I have any idea where he is"

"Then we should go out and look for him!" I snap.

"Lucy, it's too risky―"

"I say you let her"

I turn, seeing someone I didn't notice before above me. That's right: _above_ me. Surrounding the perimeter of the room are ladders leading up to long pathways circling the place. I'm guessing that the pathways are used for quick transportation around Safe-Haven, or maybe just to have a place to relax and sit back. There did seem to be a few vending machines up there.

The someone in question is a girl, leaning on the railing of the wooden catwalk-pathway-thing. She has dark, corkscrew curls lining her pale face, along with catlike hazel eyes. She looks like she's judging me, and everyone else, for that matter. But for the most part, she looks like she doesn't want to be here.

"Look who decided to wake up," Natsu growls.

"Child, we can't let Lucy go out and get herself caught by the Xīn," Makarov says. "Don't you care about her?"

"No," the girl rolls her eyes. "And neither should you. Hey, New-Chick, how old are you?"

"Seventeen," I answer, trying to sound proud or brave or strong. But I bet my voice sounds shaky.

"See? She's a big girl now, she can make her own decisions," the girl says, taking an apple out of a nearby basket. "If she wants to leave this place and risk her neck, I say you let her"

"You have to care!" Natsu snaps. "You're here, aren't you?"

"Yeah," the girl smirks, taking a bite out of her apple. "But I'm only here for the food"

There's a look of bloody murder on Natsu's face, as he runs up the ladder to confront her. A lot of yelling ensues, yelling that is impossible to understand. Something tells me that, in a few minutes, their fight won't just be verbally.

"She seems pleasant," I say, turning to Cana.

"That's just Maya," Cana answers, wiping her mouth. She doesn't sound the least bit drunk. "We found her last month, running from the Xīn like you. Except she just locks herself up in her room, and when she comes out, she's never in a good mood. Funny, she's never pissed Natsu off before," Cana smirks. "I guess it's 'cause Natsu likes you so much"

I can feel my face growing hot, and I know I'm blushing. She doesn't mean that . . . Natsu doesn't like me. After all, we only met a few days ago.

But I remember how he rescued me from the Xīn cells. Gray, Erza, Loki, Elfman, Lisanna, and the twins were with him that day, and any of them could have been the one to save me. But it had been Natsu, and now he's telling me stories to calm me down and standing up for my safety.

I remember holding onto him when I thought I was falling to my death, and how effortless it was, how comfortable I felt. These were just little things, though, favors if anything, nothing huge. Things he could be doing out of the kindness of his heart.

But maybe . . .

No.

These were only favors, little things to be done out of the kindness of his heart. It's because I'm new, and confused, and vulnerable. Once again, it's only a coincidence that it's Natsu. It could have been Erza, or Gray, or Loki, or even the twins. Hell, if things had been different, it may have even been Maya. It was only a coincidence, and nothing more―.

"What'd you say, Cana?" Makarov asks, suddenly.

"Nothing!" I exclaim before Cana can even open her mouth. "I don't exactly agree with her methods, but Maya's right. I'm seventeen; I'm old enough to go out a look for my dad if I want to. I say I―"

"Look," Gray says, interrupting me in mid-sentence. "We've all lost our homes, and we've all lost someone important to us. Survival of the fittest, Blondie, if you can't keep up, then you should just go back to New York"

* * *

_**This was a short chapter, but I'm sort of in a hurry. And on vacation. And thinking about a new story. And . . . erg. **_

_**Aye, Sir!, **_

_**Ninja **_

_***BAGPIPES EXIT!***_


End file.
